


Match

by justalittlegreen



Category: MASH (TV), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Army, Crossover, F/M, Fingering, I don't even WRITE Bones, Meeting Your Match, Negotiations, Outdoor Sex, Smut, The world is ending, Wit, apocalypse is basically sex pollen right?, discussions of 24th century contraception, everyone must get laid, respect, what have you people done to me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:09:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21981934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justalittlegreen/pseuds/justalittlegreen
Summary: Margaret responded by wrapping her legs around his hips and pulling him to her with all her strength. "Enough with the gentleman act," she hissed, teeth grazing his neck.
Relationships: Margaret "Hot Lips" Houlihan/Leonard "Bones" McCoy
Comments: 18
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PrairieDawn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrairieDawn/gifts).
  * Inspired by [38th Parallel Universes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18550378) by [PrairieDawn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrairieDawn/pseuds/PrairieDawn). 



Margaret had thought she understood surgeons. Their cockiness, their bravado, their secret fears.

Their hands.

McCoy was unlike any surgeon she knew, despite the nickname. Sure, he had a bit of a hot streak, in the way that Hunnicutt could see red when you came between him and his people, but McCoy carried the confidence differently. More humble. More understated. More to Margaret's style, if she was being honest. Quiet competence, that was the way to be a real man in the world.

None of this mattered, however, with McCoy's lips at her neck and his hand up her skirt. She'd wrapped one leg around his waist, far more brash than she'd usually be, but wasn't the world supposed to be ending anyhow? The hitch in his breath when he found her wet conjured a real smile. She ran her fingers through his hair at the back of his head. Surgeon hands. Clean nails. Deft fingers. Fingers that knew how to find exactly the right spots to weaken her knees. She dug her heel into his back, trying to pull him closer as his fingers trilled a pattern inside her that left her so desperate she bit his shoulder to contain the sensation.

"We need to take this somewhere else," she whispered, doing absolutely nothing to disentangle herself.

"Where'd you have in mind?" he asked, his voice a low rumble in his chest. 

"My place?"

"I thought you weren't that kind of girl."

"That was before I decided I'd rather be in bed than shoved against a tree."

"You didn't seem to mind too much."

"I didn't." She dropped her voice to a purr and clenched her muscles, squeezing his fingers until he gave a little gasp. "I decided I wanted more."

Bones drew back, slowly pulling his fingers out and wiping them on the inside hem of his sweater. "Lead on, m'lady."

It was late and dark enough that she didn't make him walk behind her. As soon as they were in the door, McCoy pulled her into his arms for a long, slow kiss. 

"I want you to know, I have absolutely no expectations," he said quietly. 

"I want you to know that I fully expect you to enjoy yourself," she replied, dropping her hand to his belt, cupping the bulge in his pants with equal parts appraisal and appreciation. McCoy closed his eyes and tilted his head back. "But I wasn't done with you," he protested softly.

"I'll say you weren't," Margaret said. "Now get over here and let me properly appreciate you." She moved to go sit on the bed, gesturing for him to stand in front of her as she unbuckled his belt.

"Am I going to wish I had something to hold on to?" he asked with a tinge of amusement in his voice.

"Don't worry," she replied, freeing him from his shorts. "I'll be very gentle." 

She was accustomed to men dissolving into puddles of helpless praises and promises once she had them in hand, but McCoy stayed quiet, one hand gently stroking her hair as she got the feel of him. Nicely sized, and on the thicker side. She leaned in close enough that he could feel her breath on him, warm and tantalizing. She felt the hand in her hair tremble and tighten its grip, almost as if he were trying to stop himself.

"Oh yes," she breathed. "You are definitely not done with me."

Bones went dizzy as her mouth - that sweet, soft, _filthy_ sucking mouth - descended. She was really going to be the end of him if she had her way. Ever conscious of the mere canvas between them and whatever prying ears might be passing, he allowed himself only a soft, "Oh, _Margaret._ "

She was practiced, to be sure. Knew her way around a man. Bones sent a brief prayer of thanks that she hadn't caught him in his twenties. He'd have been hopeless to such a mouth then.

Not that she was making it easy to hang on. 

He toyed with the idea of asking for more - he had promised he didn't need anything, and he didn't, but damn if he didn't want more than this. To feel her underneath him, to see whatever he could. When she came up for air, he put a hand down to stop her from going back.

"Is everything all right?" she asked uncertainly. "Did I do something wrong?"

"On the contrary," he said. "I was wondering how you'd feel about letting me have another turn?"

"You're finished?" she asked, doubt in her voice.

"Oh no," he reassured her. "But neither are you. And I had really hoped to - " he turned so he could sit next to her on the cot, shoulder to knee, leaning in conspiratorially, " - see what would happen if you got a chance to finish."

Margaret didn't say anything for a minute. "Or, not," Bones added quickly. "Some women don't - it's natural, you know, it's not uncommon for - "

The chuckle that came across the dark had a tinge of bitter sadness to it. "Look at us," Margaret said. "The world is probably ending and we're trying to decide whether or not it's too complicated to fuck." 

The profanity hung in the air like smoke. Bones nearly choked at the oddness of it.

"McCoy," she added dryly, "do you have any protection with you, or are you going to make me sneak off to Supply?"

*

Once they'd gotten the contraceptive issues sorted out (okay, Margaret had to admit, him being from the future had certain advantages), McCoy stretched out on her cot, patting the space next to him. 

"C'mere," he said. 

"D'you mind if I do one more thing?" she asked.

"Anything."

She got up and crossed the tent. 

"Close your eyes," she ordered. "I'm going to turn the flashlight on." 

He obeyed. There were rustling sounds, and the unmistakable noise of boots being unlaced and dropped on the floor. 

"Okay, Dr. McCoy," she finally said. "You can open your eyes now."

Bones opened his eyes into a hazy red glow. The flashlight lay across her vanity, a red scarf tied over the beam. Margaret stood before him barefoot, hair down from its ponytail, dressed in something far too slinky for an army base.

She smirked as his jaw dropped. "Like what you see?"

"Like is such a pathetic word for what I see," he replied, swallowing. "I swear, woman, you're out to ruin me."

Margaret chuckled and came over to the cot. "How do you want me, _Doctor?_ " she asked, voice dripping with lust and teasing. 

Bones grinned. "Any way you'll have me."

Margaret slid into bed next to him, reached over, and tugged him on top of her. "There's really not room for two in here," she purred. 

"Is that so," Bones said, whatever was left of his wit rapidly draining with the rest of his ability to think. 

"No," she said. "I really think you'll be more comfortable like this." Trusting he could keep himself up on one elbow, she took his right hand and slid it up her thigh, bunching the satin up around her waist.

McCoy swore. "So help me if you've got nothing on under this."

Margaret responded by wrapping her legs around his hips and pulling him to her with all her strength. "Enough with the gentleman act," she hissed, teeth grazing his neck. "I want you. Now."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hawkeye and Margaret are having a lunch date that gets interrupted.  
> Premise: Hawk and Margaret were friends-with-benefits at some point well before she met McCoy. It worked because they figured out REAL fast that they made a terrible couple, and excellent friends. They most often fell into bed together in the aftermath of extremely stressful situations. Even though they aren't hooking up as of this point in the story, they still have a pretty deep intimacy.

Hawkeye leaned across the table, resting his chin in his hand. 

"I've seen that look on your face before," he teased. "And if I didn't know better, Major, I'd suggest someone was having their way with you right this very second."

Margaret blushed halfway to her knees. Hawkeye gasped, covering his hand with his mouth, his eyes crinkling to a squint.

"Oh boy oh boy oh boy oh _boy_ " he cackled in a whisper. "Is it Bones? Of course it's Bones. What's he doing? Because I've seen things here...and brought things back from here...that would make a man's hair curl. Or, yanno, a woman's. What IS it whatisitwhatisit?"

"Shut /up/," Margaret hissed, dropping her head into her hand and struggling not to pant. Hawkeye whipped his head around, looking around the cafeteria, and finally spotted McCoy in the corner, with Kirk and Spock, looking for all the world like he had nothing on his mind but vegetarian meatloaf and dermal regenerators. 

"Think he'd kill me," Hawkeye muttered across the table, "if I stuck my hand up your skirt to find out?"

Margaret looked up and glared at him. "I'm not sure what he'd do, but there wouldn't be much left of you for him to get to if you tried."

Hawkeye leaned back and raised his hands in the air, grinning at her. "Aw come on, Margaret, all in good fun."

"On the contrary," Margaret said, a grin stretching across her own lips now, "I think I'm the one having all the - " she gasped, reached across the table and grabbed one of Hawkeye's wrists as she buried her face in her other hand, willing her hips to stay still.

"Whoa," Hawkeye breathed softly. "Easy, Margaret."

Margaret balled up her fist and stuffed it against her teeth, a tiny whimper coming out over the clatter of forks and chopsticks. Her eyes screwed shut, she dug her nails into Hawkeye's skin until he almost protested, and then, just as suddenly, broke into a quiet laugh and relaxed. She sat up, eyes dreamy and soft, and cast a look toward the corner that was equal parts murderous and affectionate.

McCoy, for his part, looked up from the PADD in his hand and offered them a two-fingered wave. His companions didn't notice.


	3. Chapter 3

He'd been so - so good to her, in ways she barely recognized. Sometimes, Hawkeye approached that level of care and dedication, but it always felt a little like he was trying to take care of her in those moments, trying to hold her together instead of letting her fall apart. Leonard came at her with a focused determination - his hands, his lips, her undoing. The rest of him, a soft landing.

She straddled his hips, up on her knees, denying him the contact he was desperately trying not reach for. Traced a finger down his sternum, the green-gray undershirt half soaked. She tugged near the hem, untucking it from his pants. He automatically raised his arms to her as she pulled the shirt over his head, a gesture both tender and trusting that contrasted with the smirk on his face as he lay back down, hands folded behind his head.

"Well, Major?" he asked.

Margaret nearly slapped the smile right off him, and instead settled for running her fingernails lightly over his ribs, remembering how he'd flinched and doubled over earlier. 

He closed his eyes, panting, mouth open, belly heaving as she trailed the tips into every crevice. "You got me," he whispered, a flashing her a momentary grin. "You gdaamn tease, woman," he added, twisting, muffling a moan into her discarded sweater.

Margaret smiled with all her teeth and snapped her fingers right over his nose. McCoy got the message, rolling his head back to center and looking her in the eye. 

"Tease," he repeated, giving his hips a more earnest thrust. "You'd leave a man hanging?"

Margaret raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, planting her hands on either side of his head and looking down at him. "I've done worse to men with smaller egos," she murmured. 

Leonard thought it'd been twenty years since a woman actually made him blush, and the sensation was far from comfortable. He rocked his hips slightly from side to side, seeing how much force it would take to flip her over and take her right that second.

Margaret had other ideas. She squeezed his hips with her knees like a vise, her face growing taut with the mix of arousal and competition. "I'll bet you don't do physical training like we do," she whispered as cattily as she could manage. "Not on your nice cozy ship with _elevators_."

Leonard responded by casually bringing one hand out from under his head and pushing his palm against her sternum until he managed to lift her - well, her hands anyway. Slowly, slowly, with Margaret struggling the whole way, he sat up, got up on his own knees, and pushed her on to her back, taking the position she'd held over him - straddling her hips. He sat back on his heels and tried not to smirk with his _entire_ face. Margaret scowled.

"Kiss me before I remember how annoying you can be," she demanded. 

"As the lady wishes," Leonard replied, bending down and sliding his hands under her head. The games were fun and all, but the way she planted her feet and canted her hips up when he kissed her said she was ready to move on and get down to it as much as he was.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't watch TOS, I have zero handle on Bones when it comes to speech pattern and character, so forgive any diversions. Blaime PrairieDawn for everything.


End file.
